Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

So I finally get home at like eleven or twelve, and as I walk in I hear a car engine revving and a horn blaring. This means only one thing - my roommate is playing Driver for Play Station - one of our favorites. Now let me explain this game to you. Most people, when they play this game, will play it the right way and try to actually progress through the game…not us. Our goals when we play are to see who can make the coolest wreck and/or flip the car, who can get the most cops after them and avoid them the longest, who can find jumps and make the car go flipping through the air, and if you’re really lucky, and this is rare, get caught in the scenery of the game because there’s some sort of glitch. Oh yeah, and you are supposed to wail the horn as much as possible. It probably doesn’t sound like it makes much sense, but oh man, at three in the morning it’s pure bliss! The scary part is that there were times when, after playing till all hours of the morning, I would be driving to class and see a cop on the side of me. As God as my witness I almost instinctively jacked my wheel so I would crash into him in an attempt to drive him off the road, maybe into a telephone pole, and start the chase. Luckily the part of my brain that cares about not going to jail kicked in and stopped me in the nick of time. I don’t blame it on the game though like most parents and crazy people do…I think it’s unsafe to be driving to class before noon.

So I go into the living room to see how he’s “progressing.”

“What’s up?” I ask as he pauses to wipe the sweat off his hands.
“What’s goin’ on, dude?” After some honking, “How was your day?”
“Sucked.”
“Oh yeah?”
“What’d you do?”
“I’ve been playing Driver all day.”
“Nice.”
HONK!HONK!HONK!HONK!HONK!HONK!“Cool man.”HONK!

I stay and watch for a little while longer, then head to my room to start my homework. Now remember I said I was a Music Major? Yeah well, tonight anything music related will be last on my list. Instead it’s Latin. I know, I know, “why did you choose Latin? Why not just do something easy like Spanish or French?” I already took Spanish in high school, so if I did it in college I would have to take a more advanced class, because I’m supposed to already know some. Too bad for me I’ve had a four year lag in between to forget everything (not that I really learned anything to begin with). French just makes me mad because sooooo many of the letters are silent. Plus whenever I think of “French” I think of French-Canadian senior-citizens who combine French and English, or creepy French men hitting on dumb American girls. So I’d either feel like a sixty-year-old or a pervert. Plus I think music should count as a second language. That one I can read, write and speak fluently, probably better than English (At least I pronounce my R’s). I was actually interested in Latin. I liked that it was a dead language that many of the others stemmed from and it has a timelessness to it. I was also fond of Gregorian Chant and was interested in incorporating it into my music somehow, so I thought this would be a good way to get very familiar with it. Yeah right! This was the hardest class I have ever taken…EVER! That was the only time in my life that I felt stupid. I know I’m not stupid but Latin did a number on me. I would spend hours doing a simple translation. I guess it wasn’t what I thought it would be.

So I’m in my room getting ready to start my Latin. I’m sitting on my bed, I’ve got my notebook, my note cards, which have key vocab words on them, my textbook, which has other information key to correct grammar translation, ant the translation book that has the story in it that I’m supposed to translate. This is all spread around me in a semi-circle so I have easy access to all of it. I get to work, still hearing the horns and revving engines from Driver in the next room.

At one point I notice there is silence which must mean that he paused the game because his girlfriend is here and he has to let her in. I hear the muffled greeting in the kitchen and I get jealous. Why don’t I have a girlfriend that will come visit me? I guess it is my fault though. My last girlfriend I pushed away until she broke up with me, which I have to say I wasn’t too disappointed with. I had a good time being single after that, I had a decent amount of hook-ups, both random and old stand-bys. I guess every now and then I miss the closeness of actual human contact (beyond the “human contact” of partially naked bodies I mean). I guess it wouldn’t have been so bad though if I was doing something other that Latin. If I was working hard composing my Magnum Opus, maybe it wouldn’t bother me so much…

As they move to the hallway and then into the living room, I start to actually hear what they are saying.

“How far did you get?” she asks about his progression in the game.
“You don’t get anywhere, you just play…and crash things.”

RRREEEEEVVVVV!HONK!HONK!HONK!HONK!MMMMMMM!!! And that’s Driver. He goes right back to playing and every now and then I hear his signature “HONK! HONK!HONK!HONK! HONK! ….. HONK! HONK!” (Shave and a haircut, honk, honk), and them laughing at the pandemonium. I continue with my Latin while he plays for about another half hour or so, then I hear it become silent again, so I listen.

“What to go see if Tim wants to watch a movie?” she asks (how sweet of her)
“Not really.” he says (I know he’s just kidding, or he just really wants to keep playing)
“Come on.”
“I’m just kidding.” (see)
“I’m getting sick of watching you play this. Go see if he wants to watch a movie.”
“All right, let’s go do that work, man.” (it’s an Italian mobster thing, don’t ask)

I go back to work, pretending like I didn’t just hear that he was coming in to ask me if I wanted to watch a movie, and I notice what a mess my stuff has become. My stack of note cards is now a pile, I lost my place in the book, I can’t remember which point in the translation I’m at (I think I’m about one quarter of the way through) and my notebook page is half torn out of the spiral from turning the page back and forth so many times.

“What’s goin’ on, man?”
“What’s up?”
“Wanna come watch a movie with us?”
“No, I can’t. I got WAY too much shit to do.”
“Latin?”
“Yup. It fuckin’ sucks, like I can’t even like work on my music or anything, I gotta just fuckin’ work on this shit, ALL the time!”
“That’s URI for ya’”
“This and work, that’s it.”
“All right, Dude.”
“Well have fun.”
“Yup.”

He goes back into the living room and I listen.

“Hey, what did Tim say? Does he wanna watch?”
“Oh, no he can’t watch, he’s got too much work.”
“He works too hard.”
“Yeah.”
“Well, do you know what you wanna watch?”
“Uuuuummm, let’s watch this.”
“Okay.”

I hear them getting the movie started and him tapping on his legs (he’s a drummer too), and I can tell that the light in the living room has gone off because it isn’t coming into my room anymore. They are probably snuggling under a blanket on the couch, when I hear the opening music to one of our favorite movies to watch together…and then I go back to doing Latin.

They have a very cute relationship. They have their ups and downs like any other couple, but over all they get along really well. They’ve been together for about three years now, since sophomore year, sometime during marching band season (yes, we’re all band geeks, but cool band geeks). He’s one of the few guys I know, maybe the only one, who puts his friends before his girlfriend. They do get alone time and do romantic things, but he’s not that guy who disappears when his girlfriend comes over. A lot of times, the three of us hang out all together, and it seems to work out pretty well: I’m used to being a third wheel and don’t mind it. She and I have kind of become friends too. There are even some times when she will come over and if my roommate has work to do, she and I will hang out. One time, for fun, we made a list of all the girls I’ve kissed and hooked up with (I’d say it was about average). Sometimes the two of us just need to vent to each other, because there are things that only the two of us understand.

I’m still working on Latin long after the movie finishes and they’ve gone to bed (It was late, even for me). I finally drift off to sleep at some un-godly hour, probably close to sunrise, but at least it was still dark out. All of a sudden the phone starts to ring. I snap awake, all freaked out because I was in that place half-way between dreaming and reality. You know, when you feel like you’re falling and all of a sudden, BAM you hit bottom and wake up. I wasn’t sure at that point if the phone really rang or if I had dreamt it, so I just laid there panting. The phone rang again, so now I knew it was real. I shot up to go answer it, my mind racing wondering who it could be, if something was wrong. I make it into the kitchen and then trip over the recycle bucket as I pick up the receiver.

“Hello?” I ask half asleep and disoriented.
“Hello, Timothy,” a sultry woman’s voice.
“Who the fuck is this?”
“I’ve been watching you.”
“What!?”
“I can’t wait to finally meet you in person…and I bet you can’t wait to meet me either.”
“Whatever.”

I slam down the receiver and head back to my room. When I’m at my door, about to go in, my roommate peeks his head out of his room.

“Who the hell was that?”
“Some bitch.”
“Great. G’night.”
“Night.”

Foreword and Chapter 1

FOREWORD

My name is Tim Girard.

Beginnings are always difficult. The end is easy, either because it’s the most recent and it’s still fresh in your memory, or it’s the most exciting or interesting. Chances are, it’s what happens in the end that makes you want to tell the story to begin with. The beginning is just all the exposition crap you have to go through, just so you can justify what happens in the end. Beginnings are boring and full of unrecognizable foreshadowing that only makes sense in retrospect. Most of the beginning I don’t even want to try to remember because it pales in comparison to what was eventually to come.

Is my story even worth telling? I think so. I think that what I have become and why will be very significant in the near future, so it’s important to know how I got here. Maybe it’s just out of loneliness. This could be the result of not having anyone to really talk to for a long time. An attempt at appealing to a larger audience in the hope that someone out there has seen what I’ve seen and know what I know. Then I won’t feel that time was wasted. Maybe one of you is looking for what I am looking for and like me you’ve thought you’ve found it countless times, only to realize you are now even more lost than before.

Oh well, the only way to begin is to begin…

BOOK I

CHAPTER 1

My story starts like most other days for me: I was running late for class. I was a Super Senior (fifth year) at the University of Rhode Island working towards a Music Composition degree and I lived off campus. I was on Route 1 north, waiting at the stoplight to turn left onto 138 west and time seemed to stand still. That must be what it would be like if you were conscious while you slept, to be sitting still for a long period of time with no discernable way to tell just how much time has gone by. Don’t get me wrong, I was checking my watch constantly, but I think time moves differently when you are sitting still. Finally the light turns green, but apparently no one in front of me is in as big of a hurry as I am. Plus you’d be surprised how many people forget that “GREEN” means ”GO”.

Now the drive along 138 has the potential to be a very beautiful enjoyable ride, but not when you are late for your 1 o’clock class (that’s right, I overslept for a 1 o’clock class, that’s me, deal with it). It’s fall and there are lots of trees all along both sides of the road, so the colors are stunning…not to me, not today. I am able to relax a little however when I’m able to pick up some speed and cruise along at a fairly reasonable amount over the speed limit. That is until, for no apparent reason, the car in front of me suddenly brakes and slows to a speed well below the speed limit requiring me to slam on my brakes and join his pointless deceleration. Oh, and just a side note, my car, a 1980 Buick Skylark, had been dead for some time so I was driving my parents’ Dodge Ram Van. So that’s a lot of extra weight to bring to a crawl. This slower speed also gave all my frustration that I left behind a chance to catch up with me, as well as adding the anxiety of almost hitting the car. I check my watch again, like knowing what time it is will help get me there faster, and think out loud how I would like to know what it is like to be on time for this class.

After what seems like an unnecessarily long amount of time, and another slow light, I’m in the home stretch. I turn right onto the back road behind campus, stop and rush through the stop sign, turn left, race the engine and then turn right into the parking lot behind the Fine Arts Center (from here on affectionately referred to as the FAC) and…the van stalls. Oh, I’m not kidding, apparently if you are going fast and then turn and decelerate at the same time she doesn’t like that and goes into total shutdown, which includes the power steering and power brakes. So here I am, late for class, standing on the brakes and pulling the wheel with all my might, so I don’t smash into the car that’s leaving the parking lot as I’m trying to enter it. Once I am able to regain control, stop and restart the van, now it’s time to zip (and when you’re talking about a van ‘zip’ is a relative term) up and down the aisles looking for a spot. Now here’s the thing with the FAC parking lot: it’s usually full. At this point everyone has already parked and gone to class for this hour, or has already left from their class that ended last hour, so because I’m late, I’m probably S.O.L. What’s that you say? “Maybe if you didn’t come so late you would have a spot.” Here’s the thing, if I got here on time, I would be fighting with everyone else who has a class this hour for a spot, in addition to the traffic of everyone leaving, both vehicular and pedestrian. Oh, you think you still have the answer do you? “If you come early, you can beat the rush.” Oh my God you are so smart, why didn’t I think of that!? Oh wait, I did. If you get here too early, the lot is full because everyone has already parked and gone to class for this hour, or has already left from their class that ended last hour. (Does it sound like I’m repeating myself? It irritates me as much as it does you, believe me.) It’s this vicious cycle and the only answer is to actually have enough parking spots for everyone who goes to your school. Sorry, I digress.

So I’m frantically looking for a spot and eventually I find one waaaaay in the back. I now go through my routine of unbuckling my seatbelt, putting the car in park, rolling up the window, turning off the engine and taking out the key grabbing my bag off the seat, opening the door and locking it, jumping out, and then shutting the door all in one fluid motion. It’s really quite beautiful actually, like a ballet. Now it’s time to check my watch again (to tell you the truth, I don’t know the purpose of this) as I mad dash at top speed across the parking lot to the FAC.

I get to the door yank it open and run through making an almost immediate left as some of my friends call to me but I tell them I can’t talk I’m late for class but ask them if they’re coming to the party at my house on Friday they say yes I’m still running and around the next left more people yell to me and I remind them about the party as I run down the ramp I grab the handle to the door on my right and pull expecting it to open but it sticks and doesn’t open and that hurts my shoulder but I give another hard pull and it gives so I yank it open and lunge through it and bolt up the stairs three at a time my shoes squeaking to the door and grab the doorknob and…nothing.

The door is locked. So now, instead of sneaking in quietly, I have to knock on the door, and disrupt the class, alerting everyone to my tardiness. By the way, this isn’t some big lecture class you can sneak in the back of and the professor doesn’t know you. It’s a classroom with less than twenty students, and it’s a music class, so the professor definitely knows me. There’s nothing else I can do so I suck it up and knock as quickly and quietly as possible. The student sitting closest to the door opens it for me and I come in with my head hanging low, still hoping that maybe no one will see me. Yeah. No such luck. All eyes are on me. I finally meet the gaze of my professor.

“Sorry,” I say as I make my way to an empty seat.
“Mister Girard,” He looks at his watch, “You know it is quarter after already.”
“I know, I’m sorry,” I slip into the chair.
“This is the third time you realize.”
“I…Uh…Never again,” as I start to unzip my bag but the zipper sticks.
“Well I’m counting on it.”
“Sorry,” still tugging at the zipper.
He holds his gaze a little longer, then, “So, where was I? Oh, yeah…”

He goes on with his lecture as I yank the zipper and it opens, spilling most of my stuff onto the floor. I scramble to get everything I don’t need for this class back into my bag and find the right notebook so I won’t get any more behind in the notes.

After class I take a minute to organize my things that I crammed into my bag. A few students were waiting to talk to the professor, so I knew I would be safe from another disappointed look. I finally sneak out and head down the stairs and out the door back to the van. Next it’s time for me to drive half an hour to work at the Warwick Mall Structure, where in addition to cashing people out, I had to endlessly fold clothes (now I know how my mom felt), and pretend like these clothes make me, and everyone that wears them, a better person. Now don’t get me wrong, I did like the clothes, that’s why I started working there. I guess it’s probably like this with all retail jobs, but I’m still confused as to why, I was required to be a whore. But, it was a job and being a college student doesn’t leave many opportunities outside of retail, and there are worse jobs.

And everyone needs money, right?

Coming soon: Tim Girard's "The Path I. Genesis"

So I’ve decided to start putting my book on here. I will do one chapter roughly once a week. I figure this will keep me working at it, but a little at a time. I probably won’t put the entire thing on here, just enough so that you’ll still want to buy it when it gets published, haha! I’m going to take a week to start cleaning it up, then begin posting it. YOU’VE BEEN WARNED!